


Double Consciousness

by Torpi (orphan_account)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Torpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Consciousness

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is actually a quote from a piece of a sentence in 'The Souls of the Black Folk' by Du Bois.
> 
> This idea has been floating around in my mind for awhile now and I may add more to it in the future.

He jolted awake, gasping, hands going for his weapons as the sounds of explosions and gunfire echoed in his audios.  Where was he?  What had happened?  Who was trying to hold him still?

He growled, twisting free of the grip that loosely held him.  A sleepy sounding grunt came from his captor as he spun around pulling a sword free of its sheath.  The mech behind him finally began to move slowly, still more in recharge than awake, shifting and letting a confused noise.

Drift pounced on him which finally jolted the mech fully awake.  Hands shot up trying to shove him away but his captor was still too disoriented to up an affective fight.  He grabbed one wrist and hit the other with the flat of his blade, knocking it back to the ground.  The swordmech pressed the blade downward, catching both the fallen wrist of his foe and the cables of his neck against the sharped edge.

“Drift!”

The panicked cry jolted his awareness of where he was and who he had attacked.  He was in Perceptor’s room, the sniper was sprawled beneath him looking up at him with wide, startled optics.  Drift shuttered his own optics, trying to center himself again.  The mech beneath him lifted his head slight so they could make optic contact.  “Drift, it’s me,” he said soft voice.  “Are you alright?”

Drift wasn’t sure.  His engine was still racing and the fuel was hammering through his lines.  He was still growling and even though he knew it was Perceptor beneath him, he still hadn’t moved his sword away from the mech’s throat. 

He took in the picture that the red mech made.  His optics were wide, a touch of fear in them.  Perceptor was lying limp and submissive on the berth, taking slow and steady intakes.  There was a faint tremble to his limbs as he restrained himself in trying to fight Drift off him.  There was a slight acrid smell to the air, the familiar one of overheated circuitry.  He looked down at the black pelvic span unsurprised to see the stains of transfluids and lubricant smeared across it.  The same stains were on him as well.

It was a beautiful scene, something he hadn’t seen in a long time.  The last time he had seen this he had been on Turmoil’s ship but -instead of a sword- it was the claws on his hand shoved up through a seam in small mech’s armor, wrapped tightly around his spark and leaving scratches on the chamber itself.  That feeling of power and dominance, he wanted to feel it again. 

He met Perceptor’s optics and forced himself to take a deep intake.  He was trembling almost as bad as the mech beneath him but while his was from suppressing his own desire, Perceptor’s was from a combination of worry and fear.  He didn’t want to rape him.  There were too many feelings that he refused to admit he had for the red mech to even thinking of forcing him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

So why was he still pressing his sword’s sharpened edge against Preceptor’s throat?

“Drift?”

An image suddenly popped into this cortex, one that had a purr escaping him without any conscious process.  It would be easy to grab both of Perceptor’s hands, forcing them over his helmet and stabbing his short sword through them to keep them in place, out of the way.  The sniper would be distracted by the pain long enough for him to tear through the control cables in his neck that ran from his vocalizer unit to his communication equipment.  It would be easy enough to gag him after that.  The red mech would be at his mercy.  He didn’t have claws anymore but he knew where the locks were to Perceptor’s exterior armor.  He could strip him down in astroseconds and then play with the various hoses, circuits and wires.  The small, wickedly sharp dagger he kept hidden in the armor of his lower leg would be all he would need to cut and nick through wires and hoses alike. 

“Drift?  What’s wrong?  Talk to me.”

He couldn’t say anything, what could he say anyway?  ‘I want to cause you pain so that I can gain a perverse pleasure from it?’  Drift knew he couldn’t do it.  Those optics, while still touched with fear and worry, were calm and trusting that he wasn’t going to hurt him.  He doubted that Perceptor had even cued up any kind of security request.  He always said he was too trusting, and to break that trust for his own selfish gain was something that Drift knew he could just never live with. 

He managed to nod his head as he all put leapt off of Perceptor, stumbling slightly as his equilibrium chip struggled to keep up with his sudden movement, backing up until his back touched the far wall of the small room.  The former scientist was sitting up on the berth, now looking concerned as his optics roved up and down his frame.  “Drift-“ the other mech started to say but was cut off as he growled and took a step forward.  He felt himself trembling, warring with himself as he brought his sword up in an aggressive position.  He wanted to leap onto the berth and force the sniper to submit to him.  An image of him, bleeding from his impaled hands while Drift sat on his chest, holding his mouth open, shoving his spike in and out of the warm cavity furiously caused a shiver to race through the swordmech at the same time as his tank rolled in disgust.  The mech still sitting on the berth tilted his helmet to the side, puzzling over his reactions and Drift realized if he didn’t leave now he would never be able to forgive himself for what he was about to do.

“Drift!  Wait!”  He ignored the mech calling for him as he turned and dashed out of the room, barely waiting for the door to open enough for him to squeeze through.  He sprinted down the hall, deliberately passing his own room.  He knew Perceptor would come after him, the red mech would want to know why Drift was acting so unlike himself, and he would automatically assume that he would try and hide in his own room.   

There was only one place on the ship he felt like running to at that moment.  He hadn’t felt the need to hide himself away like this in vorns but the engine room was about the closest he could get on the ship to the dark, dingy familiarity of the gutters.  There were times he questioned his own integrity, his own worth, when he knew that deep down inside, no matter how he tried to hide it, he was still a gutter mech.  A mech that had sucked spike, fragged, stole, and forced his dominance on others just to survive to see the following day cycle.

No matter how deep he tried to bury him, he would always be Deadlock.

The engine room really wasn’t the gutters.  It was too clean, too tidy.  There were no other mechs there to stab him in the back at the first given opportunity and the gnawing hunger that he had once been so use to was absent as well.  What the room did have was the pipes that crisscrossed the space and the gently thrumming of the engine that sounded similar to the constant noises that use to come from the levels above.  It also had small spaces and cubbies like the ones he use to hide in to recharge and refuel on the meager rations he managed to scrounge together. 

He tucked himself back into one such cubby, a space that had him curled on his side as he clutched his arms around his chest as if holding himself together physically would hold himself together mentally.  He dimmed his optics and tried to remind himself that he didn’t have to live and think like Deadlock or a guttermech anymore.  He was Drift, a swordmech, a member of the Circle of Light and a wielder of a Great Sword.  A mech that was lucky enough to meet the other half of his spark not once but three times.  Two of those halves had been stolen away from him and he would never admit to the third half how important he really was for fear of losing him too. 

And he could never forgive himself if he drove Perceptor away from him by brutalizing him just to fulfill a selfish need. 

“Drift?” the familiar voice was calm and flat, worry still tinting the edges of it.  “I know you’re in here, I want to talk to you.”

His optics relit and they narrowed angrily.  Of course, the sniper would have to follow him here.  Idiot.  He could hear Perceptor walking closer to where he had tucked himself away and it was all he could do not to shift around and prepare to pounce on him.  The thought of forcing him down and taking him on the floor of the engine room caused a shiver to race down his spinal strut.  He tightened his arms around him and pulled his legs closer to his chest, no, he didn’t want to do that to him.

A pair of black peds came into view, moving slowly down the walkway, approaching him.  It would be so easy to take him by surprise.  They were at the very back of the engine room and it was still relatively early in the shift.  They could be done here for joors before anyone would realize that they were missing.  His engine revved as he thought of everything he could do to the red mech in that time, whether he wanted it to happen or not.  He immediately whimpered at that thought, curling around himself even more, trying to squash that desire from his processor.

“Drift?” The peds shifted as Perceptor lowered himself down onto one knee.  A klik later his face filled with concern and worry came into view as he peered into the small space at him.  “Drift?  What’s wrong?”

A snarl escaped him and, before Drift could stop himself, he was lunging at Perceptor.  The sniper’s optics were able to widen in surprise but he was much faster than that other could ever be.  He slammed bodily into the larger mech propelling them both across the small walkway and slamming him into the opposite wall.  The other’s optics flickered as his helmet collided with the pipes on the wall behind them and he took the distraction to spin him around and flip the sniper over his helmet, slamming him harshly onto the ground.

A grunt escaped Perceptor followed by a groan as his optics flickered.  Drift found himself standing over him, engine racing as a growl built up in the back of his throat.  The mech on the floor lolled his helmet to one side as another groan escaped his vocalizer.  The white mech’s optics narrowed, pleased for a moment by the sight, before they widened in fear and he found himself kneeling next to the other.  He caught the feebly moving helmet and held it still as he looked into the dim optics, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt him too badly.

He slipped a hand behind Perceptor’s head and elevated it slightly after he determined that all he had done was forced the larger mech’s equilibrium chip to glitch and reset itself.  His other hand lightly stroked the silver cheek.  He could have seriously hurt Perceptor doing that.  What had he been thinking?  Regret and desire warred against each other in his spark as he watched the flickering optics like they were somehow hypnotizing him.

Another groan escaped Perceptor, and that noise caused Drift to finally lose control of the dark desires floating through his processor.

Growling, he bent down and forcefully kissed the semiconscious mech on the ground, possessively exploring his mouth until his lip components were bruised.  Drift pulled back breathing hard as he grabbed at Perceptor’s shoulders and stood, half dragging the still dazed mech along as headed for the small door further down the walkway.  He let go with one hand and input the door code with more force than really necessary as he engine revved at the thought of what he was about to do.

The door opened and he pulled Perceptor inside and down the small flight of stairs into the furthest back room of the entire ship.  Known simply as beam alley, the small room was where the concentrated beam of light particles traveled out of the engine core and into the distributer relay that broke the beam into equal portions and then sent those portions onto the drive matrix for the individual external engine.  The light being thrown off of the beam of pure energy caused the light in the room to constantly flicker and it seemed to warp as the pulse of energy continued.  As pretty as the spectacle was, that wasn’t why Drift had dragged his prize there.

He left Perceptor on the floor, carefully setting him down instead of dropping him so as not to damage his circuitry any further, before digging through one of the storage lockers that sat against the wall.  He pulled out a spool of wire and slammed the locker closed as he grabbed a chain fall for where it was stowed and pulled it along its track in the ceiling until he reached the prone form still lying on the decking.  He knelt next to the sniper and looped the wire around each wrist only to stop himself before he had even started tying the knot.  He removed the wire and made several loops around each forearm, making a cuff to help distribute the sniper’s weight better and not damage any of the finely calibrated mechanisms in his wrists from the strain. 

Drift hefted Perceptor up, pinning him against one hip as he unlocked the locking clip on the chain fall and slid the looped wire through it.  He eased Perceptor’s weight down until the chain fall was supporting him.  Drift took a moment to step back and enjoy the sight of the other mech hanging there, almost completely at his mercy.  He pulled Perceptor’s leg back a bit and lashed it to the grating of the deck, making sure that the top of his ped was touching the grating so that there would be no way for him to get any form of leverage.  He was finishing the last of the knot on the opposite leg when Perceptor’s frame jerked and he tried to pull his leg forward. 

Drift purred as he watched Perceptor struggle, testing the limits of how well he was bound.  At the sound of the purr, however, he stilled and twisted his head back enough to see the mech standing behind him out of the corner of his optic.  “Drift?” He asked, frowning at him but not saying anything more.

Still purring, Drift made a single circuit around the bound mech letting his optics roam over the other’s frame.  Throughout the entire inspection, Perceptor remained still not saying anything as he kept his optics pinned on Drift.  He continued to walk around until he was facing the sniper, looking up and down one last time before meeting his optics.  “Comfortable?” he asked, his voice was grittier than it normally was, sounding more like what it had been than what it currently was.

Perceptor gave him an unimpressed stare.  “As can be expected,” he said, flexing his arms slightly as he tried again to rearrange himself.  “Why am I tied?”

Drift opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.  He looked over the bound mech in front of him again and realized that he didn’t want this.  Forcing himself on Perceptor like this, hurting him just to see him arch and moan as his pain and pleasure mingled with each other.  He sighed and looked at the ground, readying himself to apologize profusely and free the red mech. 

“Drift, just do it.”   His engine revved hard at the soft voice as his head jerked up and their optics met for what seemed like a vorn before Perceptor spoke again.  “It’s okay.  I trust you.”

He was moving before he even realized he was taking his first step, pressing his body flush against Perceptor’s as he caught the other mech’s faceplates in his hands and kissed him softly but passionately, careful of the bruised and tender lips.  The fear that he would be forcing his lover diminished but the knowledge that showing how dark his desires were was beginning to grow.  What was going to happen after Perceptor learned about them?  He ran his glossa over the sniper’s lips, determined to keep himself somewhat in check.

“If you want to stop tell me,” he whispered against the other’s lips, barely breaking the kiss before continuing.  “If you need a break say so.  I won’t hurt you.  I swear I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Perceptor whispered back, pressing forward as best as he could to press a gentle kiss of his own against Drift’s lips, silencing whatever else he was going to say.  “Do what you have to.  I trust you.”

He growled as he gripped Perceptor’s helmet harder, deepening the kiss until he got a shiver and a moan from the other mech.  He purred as he broke away, stepping back and off to the side as he removed the Great Sword.  It seemed wrong to let the only physical reminder he had left of Wing be tainted by a lust that started back before he was a Decepticon.  He pulled the small blade from the plating in his leg and stepped back over to Perceptor.  He stole a quick kiss before repeating, “Remember, if you want me to stop say so, if you need a break say so.”  He covered the bound mech’s mouth before he could say anything, “Nod.”  He growled as the helmet in his grasp moved up and down.  “Remember,” he whispered stepping up close to the other mech.  “I’m not giving up permission to say anything else.”

He didn’t move away but moved the hand over the mouth around to cup the sniper’s cheek and then brought the knife up so he could see it.  Predictively, his gaze went to the sharp blade that Drift slowly rolled back and forth across his knuckles.  He purred almost like a reassurance as he caught the knife and brought it up to Perceptor’s cheek, letting the flat of the blade rest there for a moment as he kissed the opposite cheek.  He pulled back just enough to make optic contact with the other mech before slowly trailing the blade down to his throat cables.  “Brace yourself,” he forced himself to whispered the small warning before lightly nick one of the secondary energon lines.

Perceptor gasped and jerked like he expected, but Drift had already pulled the small blade away.  He shivered as energon welded up out of the small cut and sluggishly slid down the exterior of the hose.  He had forgot how beautiful it was see another mech at his mercy like this, weeping small amounts of energon that he was welcome to taste.  He leaned in slowly, flicking his glossa over several wires near the leaking hose before slowly lapping up the small trail of energon, shivering at the taste.  He fastened his lips over the small cut and lightly sucked on it, shivering again at the taste and the quiet moan that came from his willing captive.

The swordmech brought the blade up again, this time make three small nicks in various secondary lines, forcing himself not to nick either of the main energon lines.  That was always a heady experience but he doubted that Perceptor would find it very enjoyable.  He would probably panic no matter how small the cut was.  He purred and run the very tip of his glossa through one of the small cuts, earning a shiver from the sniper that turned into a moan as he sucked lightly on the damaged hose. 

He ignored the other two cuts for the moment, kissing Perceptor and letting him taste his own energon on his tongue.  Drift nuzzled his faceplates as he broke the kiss and then ducked back down, sucking hard on one of the cuts.  A whimper escaped the other mech, and he smiled roguishly as he gently nipped several cables before standing up and turning his attention to the scope mounted on Perceptor’s shoulder, kissing it and running his glossa along a seam that ran the length of the barrel.

“No, don’t cut scope,” Perceptor gasped as he shifted away from Drift a little.

Drift pulled away completely and glared at Perceptor, the purr of his engine deepening into a growl.  “I said, you’re not allowed to say anything other than stop or break,” he hissed at the other mech, reaching up and pressing the flat of the blade against the scope and watching Perceptor’s optics widen slightly.  “I think you need to be punished for that little slip of disobedience.”  He kissed the edge of the lens and flicked his glossa over it as he pulled away.  “I won’t cut anything, don’t worry.  Pleasure can be used to teach you a lesson too.”  Perceptor’s entire frame trembled in response.

He nipped where he had just kissed watching the frame buck slightly as he began work his way down the scope.  He traced along seams with his fingers and glossa alike, occasionally lightly kissing or nipping at a part of it before continuing.  Perceptor was panting by the time he reached his shoulder, shivering and wiggling slightly, trying to press closer to the delicious feelings that Drift was creating.  He purred again as he moved away from the scope, lapping at the energon on his reinforced chest plate that had trailed down from the last cut that was still open in his neck.

Another moan as Drift glossa finally reached the weeping gash and he fastened his lips over the small cut, nipping it to break down what Perceptor’s auto repair had already fixed.  A sharp jolt and another moan escaped the mech as he sucked hungrily at the weeping flow.  He growled in response to the weak cry that escaped the other mech.  Primus, who knew that after all this time of interfacing with Perceptor he would never get bored with the sounds he could wring from the other.

He let go of the abused neck cabling even as it continued to weep slightly and slowly made the downward trek towards Perceptor’s pelvic span.  His fingers and glossa dipped into seams that he knew drove the other mech wild but he reframed from cutting him until he was kneeling before the bound mech.  He looked up past the ridge of his helmet and smirked at the bright, passion filled gaze that was watching his every movement.  He let his glossa flick over his lips, watching as the gaze brightened slightly and a moan drifted down to his audios.

He turned his attention back to the black span in front of him, tracing the interface hatch slowly before darting the knife over to nick a cut into a line exposed by how Perceptor’s legs were being splayed slightly apart.  The sniper gasped and jerked against his bindings as Drift immediately began sucking at the wound.  Drift could just barely make out the other mech’s mouth working soundlessly as his wrists twisted helplessly in his bounds.  The image of the two wrist pinned to the wall by one of his short swords rose up in his processor and he ruthlessly shoved it aside.  He was not doing that to Perceptor.

He caught Perceptor’s optics again as he ran his glossa up one of the seams for his interface hatch.  He whimpered as his panel clicked aside and Drift placed a gentle kiss to the area just above the panel.  He tipped his head down and nuzzled at the spike cover, placing a gentle kiss there too.  He lapped at the edges of the cover, purring at the high pitch whine that escaped the mech over him as the cover retracted and Perceptor’s spike extended into his waiting mouth. 

He purred around his mouthful and began bobbing his head slowly.  As he worked his way down, he sucked hard and as he slid back his glossa danced along the line of sensor nodes running along the bottom of the spike.  He took his time with the spike enjoying the cries and moans that escape Perceptor as he watched the sniper’s form writhe in his bounds, trying to rock into Drift’s mouth and increase his tempo. 

Slowly he moved down the spike then slid off it completely, smirking up at the helpless mech before dropping down and sliding between his splayed legs.  He nicked a line in the back of one of the mech’s knees and began lapping at the energon that weld up.  He shifted himself around so that his shoulder deliberately moved along the bottom of his spike.  He nipped at the cut as Perceptor practically wailed, his feet struggling to twist themselves around and find some purchase so he could rock himself against Drift’s shoulder.

He let the sniper rub against him for a bit while he lapped at the energon that was slowing as Perceptor’s auto repair sealed it.  He pressed a light kiss to the back of his knee before sliding out from between the splayed turquoise legs and caught the rocking hips.  He pressed the flat blade against the erect spike and caught the gaze of the other mech.  He smiled, “Should I?”  Perceptor shook his head emphatically, optics fixed on the blade.  Drift hated that, for a moment, he actually considered leaving a small cut on the spike before him.  He chuffed air at himself as a reprimand and leaned forward to take the spike back into his mouth.

He worked the other mech’s length quickly, bobbing his head back and forth as he tried to take the mech deeper each time.  Perceptor was letting out a string of cries and groans, his body trembling as he tried to do something despite the fact he couldn’t.  Drift purred around spike in his mouth, feeling it jump at the extra stimulus and quickly swallowing as much of it as he could as it twitched again and the sniper practically screamed in release.  He swallowed the transfluid down, purring at the taste as he slowly pulled away from the spike, lapping at it to make sure he didn’t miss a drop.

Perceptor was hanging limply from his bonds and Drift winked up at the dim optics as his finger traced a circle around the other equipment cover.  “Open,” he commanded as the red mech shivered at the delicate touch.  The cover clicked aside and Drift slid back between the other mech’s legs, sitting comfortably on the floor as he began to lapped at the valve before him. 

The red mech keened above him as he lavished each node the surround the outer ring of the valve slowly.  He rolled them between his lips and flicked his glossa over them at the same time causing his prisoner to tremble and moan, shifting back as much as his bounds would allow him too.  It was exquisite torture to listen to Perceptor and still force himself to go slow.  He had to open his spike cover at least, the pressure was becoming too much to bare.

He stopped himself as he felt lubricant trickle down his chin and the calipers in Perceptor’s valve desperately tried to clench around nothing at all.  The sniper whined again, hanging limply in his bounds, trembling faintly as Drift stood up behind him.  He ran his hands down Perceptor’s sides helping to ease the mech’s shivers as he lightly pressed him forward.  The majority of his weight shifted forward, and while Drift wanted to shove Perceptor forward enough to cause his joints to pop from the strain his actions, he only moved the mech forward to give him better leverage. 

He lightly mouthed the plating on his shoulder as he nicked an energon line in the back of his neck.  Perceptor twitched but relaxed with a sigh as Drift began lapping at the wound.  He pumped his hips against the trapped mech’s thigh earning him another whimper.  “Want something Precy?” he whispered shifting himself enough so that his spike slid between his legs and against his valve but careful not to actually penetrate him. 

The mech in front of him nodded his head and did what he could to slide back against him.  Quickly the white mech grabbed his hips preventing him from moving and nipped at the bleeding line again.  He smiled as he practically felt the frustration roll off the other mech.  His desires warring with the command he was given.  He finally settled for whining again, a near sob breaking through.

That whimpering sob finally convinced Drift to stop teasing the other mech.  He pressed a tender kiss to Perceptor’s audio receptor and slowly eased himself into the slick valve.  Perceptor’s head tilted back till it was resting on his shoulder as he panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.  Drift lapped at the injury on the front of his neck, purring as he saw the thin trail of energon that had run down his chest plate.  If only there was more…

He shifted his hips, sliding his spike part way out and then pushing it back in as a way to distract himself from that.  He still had his short swords on.  It would be so easy to seriously hurt Perceptor with those.  He shook his head and nipped at the back of Perceptor’s scope as he began rocking himself back and forth, trying to loose himself in the feelings of love play as a distraction from what he wanted to do.

Perceptor writhed against him, making the most wonderful sounds as he moved as much as his bounds would let him.  Drift growled and hugged the slim waist tightly to him as began to move faster, jerking the sniper’s valve down to meet his upward thrusts.  The mech nearly screamed as he tossed his head, whimpering out half coherent pleads, begging Drift to let him overload. 

The swordmech didn’t want it to end so soon and started to slow his thrusts.  The sniper was trembling almost violently in his bindings and whining brokenly.  He sounded like he had been hurt.  Fearing that he had actually hurt him after trying so hard not to, Drift froze.  His arms slid up from Perceptor’s waist to his reinforced chest plate, taking some of the weight off the sniper’s arms.  “Perc-“

He had wanted to know where he was hurt but the sniper cut him off, wailing, “Primus Drift!  Let me overload!”

He shuttered his optics in surprise at that exclamation and then realized just how badly Perceptor was shaking.  He ran a comforting hand down the red mech side, tracing one of the coolant hoses idly as he tried to figure out why the sniper was making so much of a fuss.  It was then that Drift noticed what time it was and how much time had gone by since Perceptor had last overload.  He had been so caught up in what he was doing, what he had wanted to do, that he had pushed much farther than he had ever done before, his lover nearly in pain from the pleasurable attentions that he had been lavishing on him. 

He kissed Perceptor’s audio receptor gently in apology as he began snapping his hips forward, quickly drawing his spike into the wet valve.  “Easy, Percy.  Relax, I got you,” he whispered as the mech in his arms cried out at the sensations rocketing through his body.  To Drift the pleasure of interfacing with Perceptor had vanished and the determination of completing a job –something that he had not felt in what seemed like several lifetimes- was all that remained. 

He worked Perceptor quickly with an almost detached, clinical feeling as he drove the other mech as quickly as possible toward overload.  The white mech knew how the other writhed and whined in bliss as the overload began to build.  The frantic movement of the calipers over his spike and the way the sniper seemed to seize up occasionally told Drift all he needed to know to gauge how much longer he would last, which wasn’t long at all.  He stroked his glossa over several cables in the back of Perceptor’s neck while he reached down with one hand to lightly brush against the erect spike.

Perceptor howled as he came, valve clamping down harsh on Drift’s spike.  Despite the pressure, the white mech forced himself to keep trusting in and out of the valve, prolong the bound mech’s overload for a few astroseconds longer before he finally came with a small grunt, filling the sniper’s valve.  A weak keen escaped his captive as he sagged in his bounds, Drift moving to support him better even as he trembled in the throes of his own overload. 

He allowed himself to rest for a moment before reaching for chain fall above them and undoing the latch so he could ease the length of wire out of the hook.  Drift took all of Perceptor’s weight, easing the mech onto his knees on the grated floor before stepping around in front of him and kneeled before him.  He caught the other mech’s faceplates in his hands and looked worriedly into the dim optics, cursing that he didn’t have any kind of energon toffees or cakes on him to give to the sniper to help boast his low reserves.  “Perceptor,” he said, stroking a silver cheek gently.  “Are you okay?”

The sniper just gave him a weary nod of his head before bring his bound hands up and looping the wire running between them behind the swordmech’s back.  He pulled the other mech down against him and pressed their lips together in kiss that seemed to speak more to each other than words ever could.  “Please Drift, tell me,” Perceptor whispered as he pulled back slightly before ducking in for another kiss.  “What was this all about?”

Drift shivered and pressed closer, clutching at the mech that was still trying to offer him some measure of comfort after what he had just done, after what he had wanted to do.  He shoved his dark thoughts down, burying them as deep as he possible could in his datatbanks, knowing that it was a sign of his own weakness and desires that he couldn’t just delete them outright.  He shuttered his optics tightly as he buried his nasal ridge into Perceptor’s neck, trying hard to ignore the smell of transfluid and processed energon that wafted up to greet him as he shook his head.

“There are some things I don’t think I can ever tell you.”


End file.
